


Take A Deep Breath

by casesandcapitals



Series: Dom!Gee [4]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Dom/sub, Domestic, Failure To Go Under, Fluff, M/M, Punishment, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casesandcapitals/pseuds/casesandcapitals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank gets punished</p><p>Time stamp set before "My Perfect Boy"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take A Deep Breath

I shut the front door behind me with a snap. The idiotic clients I had to deal with all day put me on edge and I need Frank to set me straight again.  
I head right to the living room, ignoring the coffee and newspaper that are waiting for me.  
Frank is on his knees, right where I need him. I stop in the entryway to look him over with satisfaction... and he fidgets.  
I furrow my brow and keep looking at him. He knows I'm standing here, there's no way he doesn't, and yet he keeps fidgeting.  
Walking across the carpet to stand in front of him makes him gulp, I can hear it in the silent room. I lean forward to catch his chin between my thumb and the curve of my index finger. When I pull his face up and he glances to the left. He looks guilty.  
I let his head drop again and leave him where he's kneeling. I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a mug of coffee, sipping on it slowly as I look around.  
The dishes are done, the counter is wiped clean. I venture farther into the house.  
The laundry is folded and put away. The bed is made. The bathrooms are clean.  
I check his toy box, but everything is in its place.  
"Hmm." I project my voice loud enough so he can hear it in the other room. I hear him shift against the carpet.  
I return to the living room and sit on the couch.  
"Frank."  
He stirs slightly but doesn't answer.  
"Come to me, Frank."  
He crawls over on his hands and knees and sits in front of me, ass on his feet and eyes on the floor.  
"You're in trouble, Frank."  
He nods the tiniest bit. I stare long and hard at him. He's the perfect picture of submission; head lowered, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders hunched in slightly.  
"Tell me why."  
"I broke a plate, sir," he answers in a small voice.  
"You know you wouldn't get in trouble for accidentally breaking a plate," I tell him, slightly confused.  
"It wasn't an accident, sir."  
He sounds really upset. I need to handle this before he starts crying.  
"Tell me what happened," I order gently.  
He fidgets again. When he answers his voice is so soft I almost miss it.  
"There was a piece of dried food stuck to the plate, sir. I couldn't get it clean. I got angry and threw the plate, sir."  
Frank's anger is something I've had to deal with a few times in our relationship. It's usually directed at strangers who've disrespected him. More than once I've had to pull him away from fights after someone disrespected _me_. He takes insults very personally.  
"I'm going to have to punish you for this, Frank," I inform him.  
"I understand, sir."  
"What do you think your punishment is going to be, Frank?"  
"Are you going to make me write an essay, sir?"  
I smirk then quickly rein it in. Essays are his most hated form of punishment.  
"You're going to stand in the dining room and balance a book on your head until I'm finished making dinner. Every time you fumble, you'll be spanked ten times. Do you understand?"  
I can practically feel his pout without even seeing his face.  
"I can make dinner, sir."  
"You're not allowed in the kitchen tonight, Frank."  
He's upset, because he likes to cook for me.  
"You brought this on yourself, Frank," I remind him. "Now, go pick a book and bring it to me in the dining room. Pick a good one, or you'll use the dictionary."  
"Yes, sir."  
He stands and leaves the room. I get to my feet as well and go to wait for him in the dining room.  
He comes back to me a few moments later, carrying a book. He hands it to me without a word and steps back.  
It's the complete works of William Shakespeare. I nod.  
"Good choice, Frank."  
Pointing to a spot on the hardwood floor, I instruct him to stand, facing the wall. When he's in position, I place the book on his head carefully.  
"This is to teach you patience, Frank. I want you to breathe evenly and stay calm. You need to learn how to channel your anger. Do you understand?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"You can close your eyes if you want. Remember, each time you waver or drop this book, I'll spank you ten times."  
"I understand, sir."  
In the kitchen, I get to work on dinner, occasionally glancing through the doorway to check on Frank. He stays exactly where I put him.  
Barely ten minutes pass before I hear a shuffling of feet and a soft "oh!"  
I turn all the burners to low and check the oven before I step into the dining room.  
Frank hands me the book with a small "I'm sorry, sir."  
I set the book on the table and pull a chair out, giving myself plenty of room once I sit. Frank comes to me without a command and I gently undo his jeans and slide them down to his knees. His boxers are pulled down next, then I bend him over my lap.  
"Count each one."  
The first smack is delivered without much force.  
"One."  
I alternate cheeks and continue.  
"Two."  
Halfway through and his skin has turned a bright pink. He flinches before each one.  
"Ten. Thank you, sir."  
"Dress yourself then keep balancing your book, Frank."  
"Yes, sir."  
I return to the kitchen and check on each pot, making sure none of them are burning.  
A short while later, just after I've poured the pasta into a strainer, I hear the _SLAM_ of a heavy book hitting the floor.  
Back in the dining room, Frank picks the book off the floor and hands it to me. His lips are pursed in frustration.  
"Take a deep breath," I tell him.  
He does, standing still while I pull his pants back down.  
By the time he counts "four" I can feel him getting hard against my thigh. An erection is only going to make balancing a book harder, and he knows it. I ignore his arousal, making him count each spank until I get to ten, then repeat my instructions and return to the kitchen.  
I'm putting food on our plates when I hear him drop the book again, accompanied by a muttered curse.  
I stick the plates in the still-warm oven and head back into the living room.  
He hands me the book and glares at the floor, his face flushed with anger.  
"Why did I give you this punishment, Frank?"  
"To teach me patience, sir," he answers at once. "To teach me to channel my anger."  
"You don't seem to be trying very hard."  
"I am trying, sir."  
It's obvious he's being careful not to snap at me.  
"Take a deep breath, Frank."  
"I know how to breathe, _sir_."  
I stare at him, incredibly unimpressed, until he drops his eyes to the floor.  
"I'm sorry, Gee."  
"We'll make it twenty this time, and discuss it later."

Dinner is a play-free time. It was one of the first things we agreed upon when we first started this. He needs the normalcy of a casual dinner and I need an hour to enjoy normal-Frank.  
I make sure our conversations during dinner are completely normal. I talk about my day and he tells me about his. I tell him I love him and he returns the sentiment with a soft grin.  
He carries the dishes to the entrance of the kitchen, handing them off to me so I can put them in the dishwasher. The order I gave him before, about not entering the kitchen, stays intact without either of us addressing it.  
Once we're done I take his hand and pull him close.  
"Will you join me in the shower?"  
I ask instead of order, and he knows we're still not playing.  
He smirks. "Yeah, alright."  
I fuck him against the cool tile wall. I let him work his anger out, clawing at my skin and cursing me. He leaves a nasty bite on my collarbone that I know is going to be painful in the morning.  
I dry myself off first, then tug his towel out of his hands to finish drying him off myself. When he's wrapped up and dry, I take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. He lays down without a word and I crawl on top of him, my hair dripping onto his chest.  
"How do you feel now?"  
"Better," he sighs.  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
"Not really, but I know we have to."  
I drop a kiss onto his lips, then continue to hover over him.  
"You got angry," I tell him.  
"Yeah." He looks ashamed.  
"I'll never get mad at you for getting angry, Frank. It's only when you can't control it that I try to help."  
He drops his eyes to my bare chest so I touch his chin, silently ordering him to look up again.  
"I know you were helping," he says softly. "That's not it."  
I press a small kiss to his forehead, then pull back.  
"I just-" he takes a steadying breath. "Once I broke that plate, I was just angry for the rest of the morning. I couldn't focus on anything and I just wanted you to come home and take care of me but I also kind of didn't because I knew I wasn't going to be able to go under and-"  
I stop him with a kiss on his lips.  
"I will _never_ get mad at you for being unable to go under."  
"I know, Gee," he sighs. "I know that. It's just my own stupid hang ups."  
"The safe word's always there, Frank. You don't just have to use it in emergencies, you know. We _can_ just take days off."  
He purses his lips. "I wanted to at least try."  
I kiss him again through my smile. "I love you so fucking much, you know that?"  
"Yeah," he smirks.  
"Tell me," I mutter, pressing kisses all over his face.  
"You love me so fucking much," he announces, barely containing a giggle.  
Suddenly all I want to hear is that damn giggle, so I drop my hands to his sides and start tickling.  
"Ah! No!" he cries, curling up and laughing. "Stop, you bastard!" He rolls me over and fights back with his own tickles, laughing when I snort.  
The giggling lasts for a few minutes until we both get serious again, the tickling turning into groping. The towels get flung off the bed and we fall against each other, kissing and panting.  
We make love in a way that hasn't happened in too long, eyes locked, hands grasping, muttering endearments and curses.  
When I finally fall back into the pillows, panting and smiling, Frank presses a chaste kiss to the underside of my chin then goes to get a cloth. He cleans us both up, looking focused, then crawls back into bed with me and pulls the sheets up.  
"I love you," he whispers.  
I pull him close and curl around him protectively.  
"I love you, too."


End file.
